Sharp
by Cere
Summary: How Curare's second meeting with Batman should have gone. Curare asks Batman to team up with her to take down the Society of Assassins.
1. Part I

**Sharp: Part I  
By Cere**

"Jakob?" Mikael called. His voice echoed through the mansion halls. He ran a hand through his thick white hair and called for his butler again. "Jakob, where are you?" Mikael gripped his rope tightly around himself and stepped out of the bathroom. Age-old instincts buzzed in his mind. Something was wrong.

He slowly ventured through the hallways, cautiously looking around every corner. His feet made no sound on the marble floor. A dagger rested comfortably in his pocket.

The door to Jakob's room was slightly ajar. Mikael pushed the door fully open, revealing a body lying on the bed with a knife in its back. Mikael grasped his dagger in his left hand and ventured into the room with his ears on alert.

The room was absolutely still. That wasn't always a truthful indicator, but in this case, the room was empty. He walked over to Jakob's body and pulled out the knife. The design and shape of the blade brought back memories.

"You're getting sloppy," he said.

"We only wanted to get your attention," came a voice from a speaker in the blade handle.

"There were easier ways," Mikael said.

"Would you have listened?" the voice countered. "We needed to stress the severity of the situation."

"I won't do what you want," he argued. "I-"

"We think you will find this task very interesting," the voice interrupted. "If you insist, we can always use more…persuasion."

There was silence as the voice on the other end waited for a response. Mikael frowned. "Meet me at the usual place," Mikael said curtly.

"We knew you would understand." The speaker clicked off, and Mikael was left in silence. He looked at his butler's dead form, and then shook his head. _This is why I retired from the Society of Assassins._

* * *

The Batmobile flew serenely past the skyscrapers of Gotham. Terry was taking it slow, observing the city around him. A sliver of moon hung in the sky overhead. Most of the illumination came from building lights and street lamps. Cars raced along the road, impervious to the danger around them.

Batman was aware of the danger. It was his life, at least when he put on the mask. He stopped the car in midair, opened the hood, and stood. He slowly turned his head around, searching with his ears as well as his eyes. To many, the sounds all jumbled into one large drone, but Batman had attuned his ears to detect trouble. Discordant police sirens wailed in the distance, a scream sounded from some street, and somewhere there was a gunshot.

_This job is never done,_ he thought.

He was about to sit back down when he heard another noise. It was a whooshing sound, like something twirling through the air. It started softly, then grew louder. Realization hit him just in time and he ducked a couple seconds before something sliced through the air where his neck had been a moment before. He peeked out and saw the twirling sword soar through the air and land in the hand of a very familiar blue-skinned assassin standing on a rooftop.

"Curare," Batman muttered under his breath. She stared back at him, her eyes challenging him. He jumped out of the Batmobile, spread his wings and launched at her.

Curare stayed motionless, keeping her unbreaking stare of Batman as he steadily came closer. Then, mere moments before he touched her, she spun. Quicker than Batman could react, she grabbed his right arm, slammed him facedown into the roof, and planted her knee into his back, pinning him down.

"You're so predictable," Curare said.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Batman grunted. He arched his leg and fired his boot thruster right into Curare's back. She shot across the roof and caught the edge before flying off.

"Impressive," she said. "You may be of use after all."

Batman got back up and a thought struck him. "How are you speaking?" he asked, remembering the one time he'd seen Curare's face. "You never talked before."

"A voice synthesizer implant," she replied. She lifted her veil slightly to reveal a silver mesh on her throat covering the speaker. Her voice was impressively realistic. It sounded like a strong, commanding female.

"That's very high quality," Batman commented. "How did a fugitive like you get it?"

"You'd be surprised, Batman," she replied. "Some people still care about their children."

Batman thought he detected bitterness in her voice. "Why, Curare?" he asked.

"So we can work together better."

Batman did a double take. "What?"

"I need your help," Curare asked.

"You try to kill me and then you ask for my help?" Batman asked incredulously.

"If you couldn't dodge a shot like that," Curare said, "you'd be completely useless against the Society of Assassins."

"Against the…what?"

Curare sighed in exasperation. "Try to concentrate." She turned to her left and looked off into the distance. "I don't know how much time we'll have out in the open like this. They're tracking me. Because of you." She pointed her sword at Batman, who just gave back an passive expression.

"It's the rule," she continued bitterly. "Anyone who fails an assignment must die. Never mind that I was their best. They had to make an example."

"It's your fault for joining the Society in the first place," Batman countered. "You knew the danger."

There was the smallest twinge of sadness in her eyes at his words. It was gone so fast that he wondered if he had just imagined it.

"That's not important," Curare snapped. "What matters is that they're hunting me down now, and I refuse to die quietly."

"So you want me to die loudly with you?"

"Stop joking!" Curare yelled. "This is serious. I've been killing the ones they've sent after me, but they have many more in the ranks and better ones. I'm tired of running; I want to hit them first before they hit me."

"So why do you need my help?"

"I'm good, but I can't take on the entire Society of Assassins alone. I'll need help, and you're the only one who's beaten me."

"Give me one good reason why I should care," Batman said.

"You want the Society gone as much as I do," Curare replied. "You're altruistic like that."

Batman frowned. She had a point. "How can I trust you?" he asked. "How do I know you won't turn on me the minute we've stopped the Society?"

"Oh, come on," Curare said. "You criticize my trustworthiness, but what about yourself? Do you expect me to believe that you'll just let me go when we're done?"

Batman crossed his arms. Curare looked back with equal conviction. _This is a stalemate,_ Batman realized. "Okay, then," he said, "but how do I know you won't hunt me down later in life?"

She shrugged. "You don't. I may like some recreation later." Her eyes smiled sinisterly.

Batman shook his head. "No deal. I want a promise that you'll leave people alone if I let you go."

Curare sighed. "All right, it's a compromise. You don't arrest me after we've destroyed the Society of Assassins, and I'll go off and bore myself to death somewhere far away from here."

Batman smirked. "Why the joke? You were the one who told me to be serious."

"True," Curare said, smiling back, "but you'll be the one he kills first."

Batman had no time to comprehend what she had said before she pulled a dagger from her belt and tossed it. He ducked, and the dagger hit something in the air. That something fell to the ground, and Batman picked it up. It was a metal ring the size of his palm with four sharp points jutting outward.

"It's shuriken," Curare explained, raising her sword, "the work of Kaveha."

Many more shuriken came flying through the air. Batman ducked and dodged, while Curare deflected them all with her sword. The barrage stopped, and a suit-clad figure jumped onto the rooftop.

He stood tall and fierce. His suit was pure black, with red slits for eyeholes. On his back was a container with flexible tubes running along his suit until they attached to his gauntlets.

"Curare," the man said.

"Kaveha," she answered. "It's nice to see you again."

"Indeed," Kaveha replied. "It will be an honor killing you."

"Doubtful," she shot back.

Kaveha growled and raised his arms. Dozens of shuriken fired out of his gauntlets, forcing Batman to launch into the air. Curare backflipped away and huddled behind the stairwell.

"You can't hide, Curare," Kaveha said, walking towards Curare. "I hunted you here; I'll hunt you wherever else you'll go. Stand and fight me."

"You don't really want me to do that," Curare said. "Personal combat was always your weak point. That's why you attack long range."

"True," Kaveha replied, "but you'd rather get a blade in the face than one in the back."

Curare was silent. She wasn't used to talking during her assignments. She had run out of retorts to distract Kaveha. Now she could only wait for her trap to take effect. As she had backflipped, she had grazed her sword along the roof, created a rift that would split open when Kaveha stepped on it. It wouldn't stop him, but it may give her a chance to end things quickly.

There was silence as Kaveha walked closer, and then he yelled in surprise. Curare jumped out from behind the stairwell, ready to attack, but hesitated in mid-air. Kaveha hadn't cried out because of her trap, but because Batman had grabbed him.

"You fool," she said, landing with her sword in ready position. "You'll mess everything up."

"You wanted my help," Batman replied, handcuffing Kaveha's wrists.

"You're working with this dreg now, Curare?" Kaveha said. "I thought you had better sense."

Kaveha fired a shuriken through the batcuff chains and into Batman's side. Batman grunted in pain and let go of Kaveha, who turned around, grabbed Batman's arms, and swung him towards Curare. Halfway there, he fell through the trap meant for Kaveha and crashed down into the office below.

_Idiot,_ Curare thought, as Kaveha launched another barrage. She dodged and blocked, but more kept coming. _We could both do this forever. I need to gain an advantage._ She ducked the last couple shuriken and jumped down after Batman.

Batman picked himself up and looked at the startled office workers. "Get out," he ordered. He didn't have to tell them twice, for Curare dropped down right beside him.

"What are you-" Batman asked as people scrambled away, but Curare quickly ducked behind a file cabinet. Batman got the point and moved to join her. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"Find your own hiding spot," Curare said. She pushed him away, just as Kaveha dropped down to join them.

"This is none of your business, Batman," Kaveha said. "You endanger yourself."

"I could handle Curare," Batman replied. "I can handle you."

"Well, I warned you," Kaveha said. Her reached under a desk and pulled out a woman who'd been hiding there. She trembled as the assassin gripped her. "One way or another, I must get you out of my hair."

"Don't hurt her," Batman commanded.

"Of course not," Kaveha said. He faced the woman at the window and shoved hard. She let out an ear-piercing yell as she broke through the glass and plummeted towards the ground. Kaveha indicated the broken window with an open hand and said, "It's up to you if she comes to any harm."

Batman swore and jumped out the window. He saw the woman falling in a cloud of broken glass. Stretching his arms outward, he fired his boot-thrusters and ignored the rushing wind as he gradually approached her. Glass shards grazed his suit as he drew close enough to grab her under the arms.

"Easy," he said, trying to calm her frantic flailing, "I've got you."

She wrapped both arms tightly around Batman's neck and stopped yelling. Batman grunted and flipped around to face upwards. He fired his thrusters down and spread his wings to increase drag. The ground still approached at an alarming rate. _This isn't good,_ he thought.

He looked down and saw a flagpole a couple stories above the ground. It gave him an idea. He reached out, grabbed the flagpole, and hung on for dear life. Their downward momentum was changed into circular motion as they spun around the pole. Finally, they slowed down and stopped.

Batman let go and dropped to the ground. A crowd of spectators gathered around them. The woman was crying with relief. "Thank you," she choked out.

"Sure thing," Batman said. He spread his wings and launched back up into the sky.

Meanwhile, Kaveha was hunting around the office, pushing over desks and cabinets. Every time he caught a glimpse of Curare he'd fire a shuriken, but she'd whisk away before it'd hit her. _She'll try to circle around me,_ he thought. _But she's been on the run for so long, her judgment may have slipped._

"You can't hide forever, Curare," he called. There was no response. Kaveha kept searching, but he ceased to follow her. Instead, he just proceeded in a straight line and kept talking randomly. In reality, he was watching out of the corner of his eye, listening for her movements. There were soft footsteps to his right. Kaveha smiled. She thought she was going to get the jump on him; she was sadly mistaken.

"It pains me to do this," he said. She was directly behind him. "I admired you in a small way. But you failed," he spoke, turning around to aim his gauntlet directly at Curare's surprised face, "and you knew the price."

Before he could fire, a rope wrapped around his arm and pulled it away. Kaveha turned to see Batman standing by the broken window. "You!" Kaveha exclaimed.

Batman grinned, but the grin faded when he saw Curare move. "No!" Batman shouted, pulling Kaveha away before she could slice off his head.

"What are you doing?" Curare asked incredulously as Kaveha fell to the floor.

"No killing," Batman said.

"Do you think he'd give us the same mercy?" Curare raged.

Kaveha used the distraction to fire a shuriken at Curare's face. She tried to dodge, but the metal grazed her face and cut loose her veil. The fabric hung, exposing her lower face.

She had no lips. Instead, tissue stretched across her mouth, leaving only small openings for breathing. Thick brown ridges run along the tissue, scars from some trauma. She breathed heavily, causing the tissue to stretch and turn white.

Batman grimaced. It was just as bad as he'd remembered it. Kaveha cried out in shock and disgust. He lay on the floor and stared at Curare's grotesque face. Everything was quiet. Curare finally broke the silence by plunging her sword into Kaveha's heart. His last breath was forced from him and he collapsed.

Curare roughly pulled her sword from Kaveha's body. She tore off her veil, wiped off the blood, and tossed the rag on the floor. She walked over to the window, trying to hide her face from Batman's view.

"We leave in an hour," she said. "WPA Flight 117. It's a cargo of hover vehicles for Morocco."

"I can't leave that soon," Batman protested, "even if I did decide to help you."

"Then you have an hour to decide," Curare said.

She jumped out the window before he could argue. He solemnly watched her land on an elevator and leap from building to building until she was out of sight.

* * *

Mikael approached the hilltop. Clouds clustered the sky, blocking the sunset. He pulled his trenchcoat around him to shield the cold wind. Upon reaching the top, he searched the horizon. A hovercopter was approaching from the distance. He checked that his favorite dagger was still in place, took a deep breath, and waited for it to arrive.

The nondescript vehicle halted in the air above him. A man dropped out and landed next to Mikael. He waved the hovercopter away and turned to face him.

"It's good to see you after so much time," Bendi said.

"It's been many years," Mikael replied in a guarded tone. He noticed Bendi's bionic left eye. "I see you've gone cyborg."

"Ah, yes," he said, running a finger across it. "It's been very useful."

"I'm sure it has," Mikael said. There was a moment of silence. Bendi was watching Mikael, trying to see what he'd do.

"Why did you bring me here?" Mikael asked.

_So he doesn't mention his loss._ "We are in need of your assistance," Bendi answered. "I think you'll find it most intriguing." Mikael was silent. "It involves a former pupil of yours. Your best one, in fact."

"Yes, you named her Curare, didn't you?" Mikael said.

"Correct," Bendi replied. "Very appropriate, wouldn't you agree? She was our best assassin, a credit to your teaching abilities. But something went wrong."

Mikael's expression revealed nothing. "I don't believe it," Mikael said, "not her."

"Yes, Mikael," Bendi said. "She failed. And now she won't pay the price."

Mikael smiled. "Of course not. She has too much determination. I trained them all that way."

"Then you'll have to deal with it," Bendi said. He was quiet until Mikael grasped the meaning of what he'd just said.

Mikael kept smiling. "She's too much for you to handle, so now you want me to kill her for you." He shook his head. "You didn't have to kill Jakob for this. I will gladly do it."

"Excellent," Bendi said. "I knew you would enjoy it."

Mikael's smile stayed on his face, hiding the dark thoughts within. He had made his decision long ago.

to be continued...


	2. Part II

**Sharp: Part II  
By Cere**

Wayne rubbed sleep from his eyes. It figured. This was the first night he hadn't watched over Terry, getting some rest instead. The kid enjoyed the sign of trust, and Bruce was feeling under the weather. No supervillain operations were expected tonight, so he'd instructed Terry to signal him if anything big happened. Apparently, something big had happened.

Wayne shuffled down the stairs into the Batcave. Ace followed on his heels, excited by the activity. "Easy, boy," Wayne said, easing himself into his chair. He pushed a couple buttons and found that Terry had left him a text message.

Wayne's eyes shot open as he read it. "He can't be serious!"

* * *

Batman arrived at the Wayne-Powers Airfield. He set the Batmobile to autopilot home and jumped out. As the Batmobile raced out of sight, he watched with a tinge of regret. Then he took a deep breath and turned around.

Batman turned on his camouflage and walked among the planes and workers. The numerous products of Wayne-Powers Corporation were being exported to the masses around the world. Finally, he found Flight 117, just finishing loading. He ducked inside as the cargo door closed.

Curare was sitting with her sword between her legs. "You're almost late," she said as the plane lurched to a start.

"Almost," Batman said, just as coldly.

"Are you going to try to stop me?" she asked threateningly.

Terry saw a disturbing gleam in Curare's eye. "I'm still not sure why I'm doing this," he said, "but I'll help you."

Curare sat back and rested against the wall as the plane took off.

Batman's thoughts were interrupted by a voice on his cowl radio. "McGinnis!"

_I was hoping to skip this part._ "Yeah?" Terry replied, holding his fingers to his ear.

"What are you doing?" Wayne asked in a rage. "Why didn't you consult with me first?"

"I didn't want to disturb you," Terry said. "Besides, you said I could handle this night alone."

"I didn't expect you to be in a plane with a deadly assassin."

"It's okay," Terry said. "I'll be fine."

"Do you trust her?"

Terry looked at Curare. She was twirling her sword, staring at the glinting edge as it spun.

"No," Terry said.

That seemed to calm Wayne down slightly. Static started to creep into the line, signaling that he was approaching the extent of the cowl-link's range.

Wayne realized it as well. "Terry, what will I tell your mother? How will I explain this?"

Terry smiled. "You'll think of something," he said.

"McGinnis!" Wayne roared. His outburst faded away into a growing roar of static. Terry sighed and turned off his cowl-link. He was on his own now.

He looked up and saw Curare staring questioningly at him. "My boss," he said.

"Your boss?"

"Yes," Batman said, closing guarding his words. "What does it matter to you?"

"He sounded like a very easy master," Curare said.

"You have no idea," Batman replied with a laugh. "He's so strict, you'd swear you couldn't do a thing right. There's always one little problem in every action, something that could have been improved. I bet you couldn't stand five minutes with him."

Curare gruffly picked up her sword. _Fool,_ Curare thought. _If he only knew._

"We should rest," Curare said curtly. "Tomorrow is a busy day."

Curare walked to the rear of the plane and settled down on the floor. Batman watched her warily for a few minutes, then turned on his camouflage and lay down. Sleep did not come easily.

* * *

Mikael stepped up to the panel. So many years had passed. He ran a hand through his white hair to make sure it was in place. The attire he wore was perfectly planned to portray a strong image. Hopefully his speaking skills were still in good form.

He pushed a button and stepped back into the hologram sensors. Images appeared on the large screen before him, the entire head of the Society of Assassins. Mikael scanned the faces. Some were familiar, while other faces were new ones he didn't recognize. But they all knew who he was. Approving murmurs were passing among them. That was a good sign.

Mikael waited until the voices had settled down. "Men," he spoke, "we have a dilemma on our hands. I am sure you know of whom I speak. Our best assassin has now turned against us. It may seem difficult, but we can survive. This problem can be overcome."

"And do you propose how?" Akem asked.

"You know me well," Mikael answered. "Of course I have a plan. It requires us to make a gathering."

A storm of dissent rose, as Mikael had expected. He waited patiently as protests were spoken by many members. The Oldonso twins stepped forward to voice the common opinion. "We cannot do this," they said. "It is our primary defense. If we convene together, she will certainly come for us."

"Exactly," Mikael said, thrusting his fist to accent the point. "And when she comes, we'll be ready for her. I trained Curare myself from her childhood. I know how she thinks. I am the only man that can help you."

More murmuring shifted among the group. They were uneasy, a trait common in their line of work, but he could see they were gradually agreeing with him.

As the turmoil died down, Devon Bendi raised his voice. "Are we prepared to make a vote?" The response was positive. "And what have we decided?"

The vote was unanimous. They would gather, to provide the perfect bait for Curare.

Mikael gave them the location, along with orders to instruct every other assassin to meet there also. He then pushed the button and turned off the link. His shoulders slumped and he breathed a heavy sigh. It was begun. The hardest part was over. Now all he had to do was prepare and wait.

Rain was falling outside his window. He could hear it through the curtain blinds. Opening them, he looked out at the sea of black, rolling clouds loosing their fury upon the earth. Mikael thought of Blueskin, his former pupil. Of all his students who could challenge him, of course it would be her, his most fiery pupil. He sighed and placed his hand on the cool glass. The corner of his mouth raised in a smile. He found he was actually looking forward to this.

* * *

Unwillingly, awareness returned to Batman. The hard floor beneath his side, the steady hum of plane engines, it all forced its way into his consciousness. He opened his eyes and straightened in shock. A dagger was wedged in the floor right in front of his eyes.

He rolled over, turned off his camouflage, and looked at Curare. She was sitting ten feet away from him, polishing her sword.

"You breathe," she said, and then returned to her blade.

Batman sat up with a grunt, turning this little exchange over in his head. Curare could have killed him in the night, but she didn't. _She wants to intimidate me, make me think that she's the boss, but I won't let it work._

"Are we there yet?" Batman asked.

A sharp jolt as the plane touched the ground answered his question. Curare grabbed a bundle next to her and tossed it to him. Batman tentatively opened it and found an African style traveling cloak and hat.

"What are these for?" he asked.

"Do you expect to move around the city dressed like that?" she asked insultingly.

"I have camouflage," he replied. "I'll move in stealth."

"And how do you expect to gather information? You would do much better if you blended in."

Batman grudgingly moved behind a stack of crates and pulled the clothes over his outfit. He took off his mask, positioned the shroud over his mouth, and stepped back into view.

Curare smirked when she saw that Terry's face was still covered. Then she bent down and cut a triangular hole in the bottom of the plane. "Come," she said, "we've arrived." She dropped out the hole, leaving Batman no choice but to follow her.

Batman turned and watched as the plane rolled away from them. Beyond the airport, golden rays were stretching out from the eastern horizon. He turned back in time to see Curare walking away. He muttered softly and jogged up next to her.

"So," Batman said, "just how guarded is this headquarters?"

Curare stopped and turned to him. "Headquarters? The Society of Assassins has no headquarters. It's their main defense. Everybody is spread out all around the world. All group business is performed over the internet."

Batman froze. "Then why are we here?"

"An operative by the name of Mutro Botho."

"You mean we're taking everybody down one by one?"

Curare merely turned and continued walking towards town. _This may take longer than I thought,_ Batman thought.

They sneaked past the security guards with no trouble and were soon walking through the bustling streets of the city. Batman struggled to keep next to Curare and not be lost in the flood of people moving towards their everyday lives. _If they only knew who they were bumping into,_ Batman thought.

"So," he said, grabbing Curare's attention, "what exactly are we looking for?"

"It's daytime," Curare said. "Mutro's probably holed up somewhere, sleeping."

"How do you even know he's here?"

"I had a rat tell me."

"A rat?" Terry asked. "With an endearing name like that, do you trust him?"

Curare turned and looked him in the eye. "Enough." She reached into her robes and brought out a picture. Terry saw a middle-aged man, dark hair and eyes, with features chiseled from years of hard experiences. "This is the man we're looking for. I'll search the underworld here, you do something else."

"Whatever happened to teamwork?" Batman asked, accepting the picture.

"You'd hold me back," Curare said. "I only need you to fight, not to find my targets. I have enough practice for that."

"I'm sure you do," Terry answered.

"In the rare chance that you do find something," Curare continued, "use this radio to call me." She gave Terry a small two-way radio. "I'll call you when I've found him."

Terry took the radio and fit it into his ear. Curare quickened her pace and slipped away into the crowd. Terry sighed, took one last look at Mutro's photo, and went his own way.

* * *

Curare was relieved to see the sign still etched into the old wooden door. She always marveled at the audacity of Charles to use genuine wood in a door. It was almost as if it were protection, a warning that whoever owned this establishment had power and would strike down those who oppose it. However, Curare had seen enough to know the truth behind such symbols, that they were only fake shields behind which the wealthy usually languished and hid.

And besides, money wasn't power. Fear was.

Curare entered and let her eyes carefully search the room. It was as she remembered it, with only the subtle changes of time. The bar was still there, plus the tables for groups to dine, as well as booths for important guests. With a confident stride, she entered the room and made her towards a non-descript door next to the bar. All eyes in the room followed her as she crossed the room.

As she neared the door, the bartender stepped out from behind the bar and blocked her way. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

Curare said nothing, but merely exposed her blue hand and the hilt of her sword. The bartender knew enough to graciously back away and allow her through. The people watching this sequence of events felt a sense of awe and fear, for only a small group of people would be so readily allowed through that door.

Curare softly closed the door behind her and quickly scanned Charles's office. It was still well kept, but small signs of untidiness were barely visible. Charles was starting to succumb to the stress of running a criminal empire. That was on her side.

Charles himself was sitting behind his desk, rapidly typing at his computer. He glanced up when Curare entered. He still had that slick quality to him, in the way not one black hair was out of place and his suit fitted him perfectly, but small signs in his face showed her more of the story, especially how his mouth slightly twitched when he recognized her.

"Curare," he said, recovering quickly, "I was afraid you'd come."

"Then you know why I'm here," she replied, keeping her strong stance.

"So you're talking now," he commented. He still had that confident tone in his voice, an almost perfect control over his manner. His expression changed to one of regret. "He asked for protection, Curare. I can't betray him. I have a reputation to consider."

Still trying to weasel his way out of this. She expected nothing less. Her sword sang as she drew it. "And I care why?"

She froze at the sound of a gun cocking behind her head. "You should've asked nicely," Charles said. "Now drop your sword."

Curare remained motionless. Her hands clenched tightly around her weapon. "I'm warning you, Curare," Charles said, revealing his fear by letting the anger show in his voice. "If you so much as flinch, Gart will blow your brains out."

_A local bodyguard,_ Curare thought, _and he's aiming at the head._ She regretfully dropped the sword, being careful to keep her arms and exactly the same angle. The steel clanged as it hit the floor.

Charles walked over and picked it up, looking over it lovingly. "That was surprisingly easy," he commented.

Curare only glared at him, waiting for the right time to strike. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"The Society of Assassins will be most grateful for your dead body," he said, making his way back towards the desk.

"Can't say the same about you," Curare replied. She watched the look of realization spread on Charles's face, then struck. Her arm flashed backwards and held up the bodyguard's arm as she bent down. The bodyguard fired out of reflex, but she was already out of the way and kicking up at his jaw. He fell to the ground, out of the picture.

Curare turned to Charles and saw that he had dropped the sword and was gripping his arm where his bodyguard had accidentally shot him. Blood was dripping out from underneath his hand.

Curare walked over and picked up her sword. "Where is Mutro?" she asked firmly. Charles merely spat at her. "Fine, have it your way." She walked behind the desk and started typing at the computer. "I won't kill you now," she said as she worked. "I'd rather get paid for it. But when I do, I will definitely enjoy it."

Charles could only yell in frustration as Curare printed off a piece of paper and exited through the window.

* * *

Terry tossed down the newspaper in disgust. He had searched through every periodical he could find, but he found nothing he was looking for. If Mutro was here, then he was probably on assignment. However, Terry couldn't find any possibilities for his target. There were no important events going on right now, no dignitaries on visit, not even a business leader people were disgruntled with. It seemed like a quiet and peaceful city. But then why was Mutro here?

_If I can't find any information as Terry,_ he thought, _then perhaps I'll do better as Batman._ He walked into an alley and started to take off his cloak. He was interrupted when somebody pushed him face-first into a wall and pressed a gun against his head.

"Cooperate and you won't get hurt," a raspy voice instructed.

"I never was good at cooperation," Terry said, and fired several batarangs. They ricocheted off the walls and collided with the mugger's hand. He cried out in pain and dropped his weapon. Terry turned around and dealt with his attacker in two punches.

"Shway," Terry heard a voice say, "you're Batman!"

He turned to see a man sitting next to the alley wall, hunched over in his ragged brown coat, his face covered by a tattered hat. Judging by the voice, this guy sounded like he was in his twenties.

"Don't tell anyone," Terry said, half jokingly.

"I can't guarantee that," the man replied.

Terry walked over, picked the guy up, and thrust him firmly against the wall. "What did you say?" Terry asked.

"That won't help," the man replied. "Your face is already scanned and stored on a remote server."

Terry stared in bewilderment at the face he saw hiding under his hat. "How can that be?" he asked.

The man took off his hat and pointed to his dark pair of sunglasses. "Visual sensors in these captured your face," he said. "The glasses also house a satellite net connection, which I access using my net gloves." He held up his hands, showing Terry the gloves he wore, made of a sleek, silver material. "Sensors woven into them detect the muscle movements in my hands, which correspond to which keys I would be pressing on a keyboard. I designed the system myself."

_This guy gives Max a run for her money,_ he thought. "Delete that scan immediately."

His expression hardened. "You can't boss me around."

Terry's mouth pulled up in a smile. "Let's talk."

Terry took off his cloak, slipped his mask over his face, and dragged the strange person up to an adjacent rooftop. The man huffed when he was set down, but didn't make any attempt to escape.

"Who are you?" Batman asked.

The man stood and took a bow. "I am Ralek," he said, "hacker extraordinaire and seller of information."

"What kind of information?"

"My specialty is the underworld," he replied. "Any information you want on organized illegal activities, I can obtain for you."

Batman circled around Ralek. "So you're a snitch," he said.

"I prefer informant," Ralek protested, with the manner of someone who'd corrected people many times before. "Numerous bosses and crime controllers rely on me for all their informational needs. In the underworld war, knowledge is the best weapon."

"Numerous bosses?" Batman said. "You even work for rivals?"

Ralek shrugged. "Why should I limit my payment options?"

Batman shook his head. "A dangerous line of work. What happens if they discover you working for their enemies?"

"They won't," Ralek said confidently. "I operate under many different names."

Batman walked to the edge of the roof and looked out onto the city. This exchange was getting him nowhere. He needed to find where Mutro was, plus convince Ralek to take his identity off his website, and he needed to work fast.

Batman turned and looked at Ralek. Ralek cleared his throat and began speaking. "I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you," he said. "I have heard much of the Batman and have great respect for you. However, the opportunity for informational gathering was too good to pass up. In return, I will give you whatever information you want, free of charge. The price of your identity is reward enough."

Batman stared at Ralek, judging the sincerity in his eyes. "All right," Batman finally said. "I'm currently looking for someone named Mutro Botho. Is he in the area?"

Ralek's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes," he replied. "In fact, that's why I'm here. Mutro's hiding, waiting to spring a trap on a traitorous assassin known as Curare." He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I hate her guts so much, ever since she stabbed me during one of her missions. I can't wait to see her fall."

Realization dawned in Batman's head. _That's why I couldn't find any targets here,_ he thought. _Curare's the target! She's in great danger!_

"Where is Mutro staying?" he asked.

Ralek made some quick motions with his hands, as though he were typing on a keyboard. "In room 54B at the Downtown General Hotel," he answered.

"Thanks," Batman said. He made to leave, then turned around. "One more thing." He ran over and snatched the net gloves off Ralek's hands.

"Hey!" Ralek protested, but Batman was already flying away.

_Wayne can use these gloves to hack into Ralek's server,_ Batman thought as he flew. _But right now, I have more important things to worry about. Curare's in trouble._

Batman made it several building tops before he stopped. _Wait, what am I helping Curare for? Live by the sword, die by the sword. She worked in a dangerous business; she had it coming to her. Good riddance._

Batman turned around and walked away.

* * *

Curare stealthily crept down the hotel hallway. The dark yellow carpet made her eyes hurt, but she didn't let it faze her. Her attention was focused on the third door to the left, with her senses scanning around her. A door opened to the right behind her, so she spun around and tossed a gas grenade. The cleaning maid slumped to the floor. Curare didn't want any distractions.

When she reached the door, she knelt and delicately ran her finger around the opening controls. A few cuts of her sword disabled the lock and allowed her to reach inside and disable the mechanical controls. She then quietly drove her sword between the door and the wall and gently pried it open.

After the door was one inch open, she stopped and listened inside. There was a sound of steady breathing, as though Mutro was sleeping. _No way,_ Curare thought. She pried the door open a couple inches and saw Mutro clearly napping on his bed.

_This was too easy,_ she thought. She scanned the room for several more minutes, but there was no one else in the room. She stepped off to the side and quickly pulled the door open, but nothing happened. Mutro was still sleeping, oblivious to the peril he was in.

Curare chuckled softly and stepped into the room. Her movement triggered the dart launcher across the door, and heavy tranquilizer was delivered into her system. Curare fell to the floor with a heavy whump. The trigger also woke Mutro, who smiled gleefully at the sight of his prize.

"I suppose I could wait until you woke and gloat over my victory before killing you," he said, rising out of bed, "but I know from experience how dangerous it is to leave you any opportunity." He grabbed the silenced gun next to his bed and aimed at Curare's head. "Goodbye, Curare."

Suddenly, the window exploded with a crash and something hard knocked the gun from Mutro's hand. He turned in time to see Batman fly through the window and a black fist approach his face.

Batman closed the door, made sure Mutro was knocked out, and then checked on Curare. She was still breathing, but just seemed unconscious. He picked her up and set her gently on the bed. _She should be able to fend for herself a while,_ Batman thought. _I'll give Mutro to the authorities, then come back here and wait for her to wake._

He picked Mutro up and took one last look at Curare. _I may hate her, but she doesn't deserve to die. With the Society of Assassins gone, she might actually leave people alone. I just hope that she appreciates this after we're done._ Then he turned and flew out the window.

to be continued...


	3. Part III

**Sharp: Part III  
By Cere**

Light forced its way into Curare's eyes. She groaned and put her arms against her face, trying to block out the annoyance. Right now she didn't care; every part of her body hurt, and she just wanted to rest and make it all go away.

Then she remembered who and where she was.

With training-enhanced quickness, she grabbed a dagger from her belt and threw it at the first form she saw. Then she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked up to see Batman sitting in a chair looking very surprised, her dagger sunk into the cushion a couple inches from his neck.

Curare sighed and rubbed her eyes again. _Fortunately my aim was not back yet. Wait…fortunately?_ She growled softly and clenched her fist.

"Nice to see you, too," Batman said.

"Where's Mutro?" Curare asked, still covering her eyes.

"Jail," Batman replied matter-of-factly.

"Jail!" Curare exclaimed. The hand moved from her face and she glared at Batman. He just silently stared back at her. Curare growled and threw up her arms in exasperation. "Why are you here? You do nothing right."

"I saved you," Batman said. "Mutro would have killed you. Had I not come, you would be dead right now." He looked away. "I almost didn't come."

"Then why did you?"

Batman looked her in the eye for a few moments. "For the immense gratitude I would receive afterwards," he finally said.

Curare huffed and got out of the bed she was lying in. His remark confused her, but she put it in the back of her mind and took to examining her environment. It was the same hotel, but the room layout was different. "Where are we?" she asked.

"I hacked us into another room," Batman said. "I figured we didn't want to stay in a room with a broken window."

Curare walked to the window and looked out at the city. The sun was setting, casting a soft red glow on the city. "We've lost time," she commented.

"It's not my fault," Batman said. "You were sleeping the whole day."

Curare shivered in anger. _How dare he act superior to me!_

Batman stood and walked over to her. "I searched Mutro's room and found this message for him. What do you make of it?"

She snatched the printout from his hand without looking and brought it to her face. As she read, her eyes widened in surprise. _The Society of Assassins is gathering? This move is unprecedented. Undoubtedly, it is meant to draw me in._ She sighed. _I did not want to battle the whole Society, but this may work to my advantage._ She scanned through the note again and looked at the name of the person who sent it. All other thoughts left her mind as she read that one word. Fire brewed in her heart and she clenched the note in her fist.

_**Mikael…**_

A deep growl issued from her throat as memories flooded back. She was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Batman asked.

She turned to him and relished the way he shrunk back in fear at the fierceness in her eyes. She tossed the note back to him and turned to the window. "Our path is plain," she said. "We leave for soonest flight to Qari." She reached out and opened the window.

"Where are you going?" Batman asked.

"…to get some fresh air," she said, and then she was gone, leaving Terry with more questions.

* * *

In her dreams, she twisted in torment. It was the same room, hadn't changed a damn bit. The cold metallic walls locked her in. This was her prison, many hours at a time. She had learned to force herself to sleep, in order to give herself an advantage. But it still wasn't enough.

The door slid open, revealing the metal jungle around her room. Pipes, platforms, and cables stretched and criss-crossed all around. It was her playground, how she got her daily exercise. She knew that if she didn't leave her room, a gas would appear that would give her a nasty headache when she woke up. She had no choice but to venture out.

Not that she needed one. She could see the form of her tormentor, barely visible in the shadowy room. She could even hear his voice. "Come on out, Blueskin," he said, mockingly. "Who knows, you might actually touch me today."

Curare growled and drew her sword for what seemed like the millionth time. What was the trick this time? Were there hidden dart launchers? Perhaps self-coiling cables that would wrap around her when she grabbed them. Every time it was a new trap, the one thing that always kept her from succeeding. But she knew that the one time she got close enough, when she finally killed him, she would be free.

Her lithe, teenage body leapt out into the arena. As soon as her foot touched the platform, an electric shock ran through her body. She gasped in pain, her sword slipped in her hand, and then it was gone. She caught her breath for a moment, wondering what had happened, when the shock came again. She jumped and held onto a cable above her head. Her mind quickly grasped the situation: timed electric pulses were being sent through the entire structure. Not only did she have to concentrate on reaching her captor, but she had to count the time between shocks so she wouldn't lose her edge. It was doable.

She concentrated on his form in the shadows and attacked. The two played a game of cat and mouse, chasing each other through the steel jungle and jumping every several seconds. The slightest error would cost either of them. Curare's mind was strained, trying to keep track of when the next pulse would come in addition to maneuvering and dodging the darts her tormentor shot back at her.

Eventually, she came close enough to see his black suit and brown hair. He realized her proximity and turned to face her. They engaged in a furious swordfight, both participants jumping as one to avoid the electric shocks. Many years of this torture had honed Curare's moves, for she had learned from many failures.

At one point, her opponent jumped early. Responding to his moves, she jumped as well, parrying his two thrusts, but electric pain wracked her body when she touched the metal again. He was unaffected. As she fell to the ground, the painful truth entered her head that his rubber boots were protecting him the whole time. She knew what was coming next.

"You trusted me!" Mikael yelled in disgust and struck her across the head. Her body was flung onto a lower platform, where a fresh shock tortured her body. Then he jumped down and temporarily ended her agony with unconsciousness.

Curare woke with someone shaking her arm. Her body was cold with sweat. She turned over, taking in the sounds of the airplane, and looked at Batman.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She brushed away his hand. "Of course," she replied.

"You were shaking in your sleep," Batman said. "It woke me."

Her eyes narrowed in anger. "And why should I care?" she asked venomously.

Batman sighed and walked away. Curare turned back over, cursing herself. That was the strongest dream she'd had in years. Normally she was able to keep her training far from her mind, but the fact that _he_ would be there must have rattled her. She sighed and wrapped her cape tightly around herself. It would be over soon.

Batman sat and watched her quiet body. He didn't care how much he didn't like her; no one deserved to have a nightmare that bad. It had sounded almost like Curare was fighting someone. He wondered if it had to do with the name on the note. Mikael, he believed it was. For some reason, that name had sparked her fury back at the hotel. Whoever this guy was, she hated him more than Batman!

Batman leaned back against the cold wall of the airplane. He had sent Ralek's net gloves to Wayne, along with a note explaining how things were going. As he leaned his head against the cool metal of the plane, he wondered what was happening back home. He felt a pang when he thought of Mom, Dana, and the others so far away. As he looked at the sleeping assassin across the plane from him, he hoped that he would make it home alive.

An alert sounded in Batman's visor. He stood and addressed Curare. "My GPS sensor says we're here," he said.

Curare flicked her cape off of her and stood up. For a moment, Batman saw the fatigue in her eyes. She seemed almost human then. But the moment was quickly gone as Curare regained control of her facial features. He wondered what she was hiding under that mask, if she felt just as nervous as he did.

"I feel the same way before a chemistry test," Batman offered.

Curare stared at him. "You are the most imbecilic person I have ever met," she said. She then reached down, cut a hole in the plane floor and jumped out. Batman followed her. He spread his wings and glided along as Curare deployed her parachute and fell with him.

Batman took a moment to admire the landscape. There wasn't much to admire. Desert stretched as far as he could see, broken only by a small settlement a couple miles from them. "Is that where we're heading?" Batman shouted to Curare. She merely nodded back to him.

The Society of Assassins's gathering place was not near any airport. Apparently, the Society had arrived earlier and traveled together to their hideout. For Batman and Curare, she insisted to take the quickest route by jumping mid-flight and landing nearby.

Batman watched Curare, floating so self-assuredly. He couldn't resist the temptation to rattle her, just loosed her up a bit. He triggered a batarang into his hands and threw it at Curare's parachute. The lines attaching her to the swelling fabric snapped and she plummeted, eyes wide in surprise. Batman swooped in and grabbed the lines, grunting softly under the added weight.

Curare proceeded to curse vehemently at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed.

"I just thought you needed to lighten up a bit," Batman replied.

"I will kill you," Curare said in a low voice.

From anyone else that would have been an innocent joke. "I thought you needed me to help you fight the Society?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't want you dead; that doesn't mean I like you," Curare responded.

Batman remained silent as he carried Curare to the ground. When they landed, she turned, whipped out her sword, and cut off one of Batman's cowl-ears. He barely had time to react.

"Let that be your lesson," Curare said, pointing the sword threateningly under Batman's throat. She then turned and started walking towards the village.

Conversation was dead during the journey to the small village. Batman wondered if he shouldn't have pulled that stunt with her. _You're toying with dangerous things,_ he reminded himself. _One wrong move and you're dead._

As they neared the settlement, small children ran out to greet them, unfazed by fears of curiously dressed strangers. The children laughed and ran in circles around them. Batman couldn't help but smile at their requests in a language he couldn't understand.

_So far from the world and they still are innocent,_ he thought.

A blond-haired girl tripped and fell in front of Curare. To Batman's amazement, she tenderly picked her up and set her back on her feet, patting her head. The girl smiled, missing teeth but making up for it with feeling. Curare laughed softly and patted her head.

Batman walked up beside her. "So you do have a soft spot," he said.

Curare stood and looked at him. "Why do you care?" she asked.

Batman stared back at her. "Were you young once?" he asked.

She huffed, turned, and walked towards the village. "Your lack of tact never ceases to amaze me."

_I'll figure you out yet, Curare,_ Batman thought.

Stares followed the uncanny duo as they walked through town. Batman felt a little uneasy by the attention, whispers behind barely open doors, but Curare retained her passive exterior and no one bothered them. Their destination was easy to locate. Batman pointed and Curare merely nodded in reply.

The building seemed ridiculously conspicuous. The steel cubical structure towered over the other ramshackle houses in the village. Batman wondered why a highly secret organization would choose to hide here. Then he looked around at the empty desert and ceased his wondering.

Before they crossed the street to their target, Curare jumped up onto a nearby house. Batman followed her. A shout of surprise and disgust sounded from inside, but the speaker didn't press her point. Batman knelt and scanned the building with the binocular feature of his visor. Curare did the same with her experienced eyes.

He turned to her. "There seem to be no guards," he said.

"Not human ones," Curare said, still examining the walls. "Look closer. Try to find dart launchers, hidden rapid-fire cannons, anything that can be used against us."

Batman turned back to the building. It was three stories, with a balcony stretching around the second and third floor. The small windows didn't appear to have locking devices on them. No figures moved behind those windows. The building seemed empty. As Batman scanned, the gray exterior blended into a non-descript blur. "There's nothing there," he muttered under his breath.

"There's something there," Curare muttered back. "There has to be, unless…"

She turned and faced Batman. "They want us alive," she said. "They'll draw us in and ambush us. It looks fine on the outside, but the building is filled with dozens of dangerous assassins. Don't let the innocent exterior fool you. You are entering into the fight of your life.

"I will not protect you. I will not rescue you. You are on your own. It is kill or be killed in there. No mercy will be shown to you. You are merely an obstacle that is in their way. Expect every possible trick. Expect every possible attack. Only then can we win."

"Nice speech," Batman said. "Does the next line go: 'This is your last chance to back out'?"

Curare whipped her sword and cut off Batman's other cowl-ear. "You back out now and I'll kill you," she said.

"You know," Batman replied, "I kinda liked those ears."

Curare sighed and shook her head. "Are you ever serious?"

"Then I'd stop enjoying this job."

"This isn't about enjoyment; this is about self-protection."

Batman stood up. "Right. Then was your assassin job for self-protection? Did you enjoy that?"

Curare scrunched her eyes in irritation. "My reasons are my own."

Batman sighed. Did he really expect an honest answer? "So, when do we go?"

Curare tensed her legs. Batman saw what was coming. "You really need to work on your teamwork skills," he commented.

"Bite me," Curare responded. Then she launched into the air, soaring across the street with a gas grenade in her hand. She tossed it through the window and followed through the broken glass into an erupting yellow cloud. Batman took a deep breath and followed her.

Inside the cloud of yellow gas, Curare's senses scanned the hallway. The gas grenade would have triggered any motion-sensing traps, and there didn't seem to be any further traps in the area. She stopped to develop a sense of direction and heard someone else enter through the window. She tensed for an attack, but relaxed when she saw it was Batman.

The gas dissipated and Batman and Curare resumed breathing. "Nice entrance," Batman said.

But Curare wasn't paying any attention. Two men were standing at a corner of the hallway. They were identical, from their facial features to their plain black outfits.

"Is this our welcoming party?" Batman joked.

"The Oldonso twins," Curare muttered, then leapt into battle.

One twin shouted and rushed towards Batman. Batman tossed two batarangs, but the twin dodged them both and swept a kick at his head. Batman blocked with one arm, but the other leg swung around and collided with Batman's side. Batman grunted, then grabbed both ankles and swung his attacker into a wall. The twin placed his hands against the wall and kicked up with his legs, crashing Batman's head into the ceiling. Batman fell to the floor while the twin landed on his feet.

_This guy's way better than I am,_ Batman thought. _I'll have to level the playing field._

When the twin attacked again, Batman activated the electroshock lining in his suit. His fist touched Batman's suit and instantly drew back from the shock. "How cheap of you," the man said, and twisted his wrists, causing two knives to extend from them. Batman stepped back as the twin swiped his arms and grazed Batman's chest.

"Just a scratch," Batman said, poising himself for another attack.

"With poisoned blades," the twin replied, stepping back and confidently crossing his arms.

Batman felt his muscles start to tighten. He tried to move his arms, but they seemed frozen and numb. The twin smiled at Batman's growing dismay, and then his eyes opened wide in surprise. Batman closed his eyes as Curare's blade came into vision. He heard the twin die.

Something sharp pricked his skin and he felt his muscles relax again. He opened his eyes and saw Curare toss a small needle to the ground. "You'll be fine in a second," Curare said. "That was the antidote."

Batman lashed out and shoved Curare against the wall. He tried not to heave at the twin's dead body. Curare's eyes showed surprise and annoyance. She kicked up and kneed Batman in the stomach. He doubled over in pain as Curare pushed him away. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.

"Stop killing people!" Batman shouted.

"He was trying to kill you," Curare said, as though this all was painfully obvious to her. "What more appropriate way is there to strike back?"

"You tried to kill me once, too," Batman shot back. "Are you saying I should have killed you in return?"

There was a silence. Batman, breathing heavily, picked himself up and stretched his arm where it ached. "Doesn't sound so good from the receiving end, does it," Batman said.

"Don't act superior to me," Curare said coldly.

"I'm not," Batman said. "You're a better fighter than I am. You would have beaten me last time if I hadn't had some help. Your skills are better, but your heart isn't in the right place."

"What heart?" Curare said, spreading her arms in exasperation. "How can you care so much?"

Batman was surprised by her question. "Because…people care for me, I guess," Batman replied. "Didn't anyone ever care for you?"

Hard anger came back to Curare's eyes. "Not anymore," she said. "They're all gone."

She started walking past Batman. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"They stole my life," she said. "The only reason I stayed with the Society was to hone my skills, so eventually I could kill the one man who took everything from me."

"Whatever he did," Batman pleaded, "he doesn't deserve to die. Put him in jail, so he'll languish for the rest of his days."

"I'd rather see him rot in hell!" Curare said, then took off. Batman gasped as she sprinted away from him.

_I can't let her do this,_ he thought. As he ran after her, he wondered what motivated him so much to help her. _Why do I care so much? Because beneath all her anger, she's the saddest person I've ever met, and she's making the wrong choice._

The two raced through hallways, flying past gray doors and empty windows. Batman fought off the pain creeping up his side. For how long she'd been running from the Society of Assassins, Curare's stamina hadn't suffered. As they rounded another corner, Curare creeping further away from him, he wondered how he would restrain her and if he should in a den of assassins.

Finally, she burst through a door and into a large central chamber. Batman followed her onto the third-floor balcony overlooking a long conference table where the Society of Assassins was gathered. They turned and shouted in surprise as Curare leapt over the railing and raised her sword over her head, completely silent. Batman ran up to the railing and yelled after her, arm outstretched, but it was too late.

Curare landed on the table and sliced at the nearest person. Her blade passed right through her holographic image, leaving no impact on the gasping woman. Curare's eyes shot open and scanned wildly around the room as holograms of her former fellow assassins winked off. Then cables shot out of the table and wrapped around her, pressing her sword against her side. She squirmed and tried to cut free, but the electric shock made her cry out in pain.

Batman watched all this in bewilderment. Then he felt something prick his back and he fell unconscious as a shape moved past him towards Curare.

to be continued...


	4. Part IV

**Sharp: Part IV  
By Cere**

Curare fell to the ground. The nine-year-old coughed as a cloud of dust sprung up around her mouth. The other children laughed as she picked herself back up. Then the children gasped and shrunk back, and she realized that her veil had fallen off.

"See?" the boy called to the others. "She is a little freak. Isn't that right, Blueskin?"

Curare (but that wasn't her name then, was it?) snarled, or made her best attempt without vocal cords, and jumped at the boy, shoving him to the ground. The other children hollered and chanted as they wrestled on the ground.

"Hey, what's going on here?" a voice asked. The shouting stopped as Miss Roger rushed out of the orphanage building.

Curare had pinned the bully to the ground and was pummeling his face. Why wasn't he fighting back? Then she felt two strong hands grab her arms and pull her up. She turned to see the face of Miss Roger looking at her with disappointment.

"What happened here?" she asked firmly, letting go of Curare's arms.

"It wasn't my fault," the bully said before Curare could do anything. "Blueskin just jumped on me and-"

"Gordon!" Miss Roger interrupted. "That is not her name."

Gordon bowed his head. "Sorry. _Angelina_ just jumped on me and started beating me up for no reason."

"Is that true?" Miss Roger asked Angelina.

It was times like these when she most wished she could talk. Instead, she shook her head and tried to convey complete innocence.

"Alright," Miss Roger said, "everyone else inside. Now! Angelina, you stay with me."

Curare looked at the ground while the other children noisily made their way into the decrepit building. When everything was quiet, at least outside, she looked up at Miss Roger, hoping for a kind expression.

It was there, on Miss Roger's face, but it was tinged with sadness. She sat on the ground next to the little girl. "Angelina, what did we talk about?" she asked. Angelina looked away and didn't say anything.

"I know that they were picking on you," Miss Roger continued, "but that's no reason to fight back. It is better to ignore people like that."

Angelina turned and held her palms up, as if asking what she should do.

"Ignore them," Miss Roger replied. "Find someone else to play with, someone who won't hurt you. Bullies like Gordon Mundawa will eventually leave you alone."

Angelina sighed and tilted her head onto her shoulder, as if she didn't believe that would ever happen.

Miss Roger chuckled softly. "Why did I come here to run this orphanage?" she asked. It was a question she asked many times, to remind Angelina. She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, an answer she had invented for that question. "Exactly," Miss Roger said, smiling warmly. Then she embraced Angelina in a warm hug.

"You're very good at your job," a voice said. They turned to see a well-dressed man with thick brown hair looking at them.

"I try my best," Miss Roger replied, standing up. "May I ask why you're here?"

"I'm just looking around," he said.

"Well, I sure we have some great children for you," Miss Roger said as a large crash sounded from inside the orphanage. "Really," she said with mock exasperation, "there are some good ones in the bunch. Could you excuse me for a minute?"

The man nodded and Miss Roger hurried into the building. Then he turned his sights on Angelina. She felt disturbed by his gaze and shrunk back. No one had ever paid attention to her before, especially after they saw behind her veil.

"That was a good show back there," the man said, squatting to her level. "I saw you fight. There's a lot of spark in you…Blueskin."

Angelina growled and tried to punch him, not caring if it meant the man wouldn't take her home with him. However, he blocked her attack effortlessly. This intrigued her, and she swung again. It was blocked.

"Come on, Blueskin," the man said, "is that the best you can do?"

This man was angering her. She started swinging wildly at him, but no attack ever reached his body. After numerous blocks, she noticed a weakness in his defense. He always left his right leg open. So, after a rapid one-two punch at his arm, she swung her leg and tried to kick him. He pulled back his leg in plenty of time.

"Very good," the man said, putting a hand on Angelina's head. "My name is Mikael, and I'd like to teach you how to really fight."

Angelina batted his hand away, but what he said intrigued her. Was this man serious?

The man stood and offered his hand. "Come with me. I'll take care of you now."

A long black car pulled up. Angelina had seen that type of car before, when rich people took the prettiest kids for themselves. Her heart skipped a beat. Would she finally have a family?

She let the man take her hand and lead her to the car. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. This was moving very fast. Was this how it was supposed to go?

She heard someone call out behind her and saw Miss Roger approaching the car with a worried expression on her face. Angelina started to reach out for her, but the man made a motion with her wrists and Miss Roger fell to the ground. Then he picked up Angelina and threw her into the car, sliding in after her and closing the door. The car sped away and she looked out the back window at the other children gathering around Miss Roger's limp body.

She turned with fright to the man, but he chopped at her neck and she felt the world start to slip away. "I will give you hell," Mikael whispered into her ear as she fell unconscious.

_Why was she dreaming this now?_

* * *

Batman regained consciousness. He supposed that in itself was something to be grateful for, with all of Curare's talk of dangerous assassins. His worst fears had run through his head when he had lost consciousness. At least now he had a chance of getting out of this alive, or so he hoped.

He tried to move his arms but found that he couldn't budge them from his side. Cold metal pressed against his wrists, ankles, and chest. As he shook his head clear, he also realized that he was being held upright. He opened his eyes and was surprised to find that the scanning modules on his visor weren't operating. The suit's system was down. That meant he couldn't use the suit's muscles enhancers to break free.

Fortunately, he could still see, even though the suit wasn't working. The room was dark, lit by dim bulbs in the ceiling. He could see Curare, bound as he was to an upright metal table. She hadn't woken yet. The two of them filled up two corners of the small chamber. Across from them, sitting in a slick metallic chair, was an old man with thick white hair.

"I'm surprised you woke first," the man commented, noting Batman's movement. "Blueskin's body must be worn from her exile."

"What did you call her?" Batman asked.

"Her name," the man replied, "the one I gave her."

"Who are you?" Batman asked, pushing against his shackles to see how strong they were.

The man stood and crossed over to stand eye-to-eye with Batman. "Foolish amateur," the man said, "relying on machinery to improve your abilities. It only makes you weak in the end, for you are nothing without that suit of yours operational. Though I must say, it is a fine piece of work."

"You didn't answer my question," Batman said.

"I am Mikael Garnovk," the man said.

The name triggered something in Batman's memory, Curare's rage at reading that same name.

"Don't believe him," a voice said. "He is really the devil incarnate."

"You join us, Blueskin," Mikael said. Curare roared and strained against her bonds at the mention of that name. "Don't be foolish. I know how strong you are; escape is impossible."

"You know nothing about me," Curare seethed. "I will send you back to the hell that spawned you."

"So poetic," Mikael said. "You are really enjoying that new toy of yours." Curare grew strangely silent as Mikael approached her. He lifted her veil, exposing the mesh covering her voice synthesizer. "You know what happens to the things you enjoy."

In one quick motion, a dagger flashed from Mikael's pocket and tore open the mesh, ripping apart the innards behind it. The synthesizer gave one last weak gasp before it died.

Batman was torn by the look of loss in her eyes, tears barely forming in them. She really had relished being able to talk.

Mikael slapped the tears away. "Admission of emotion makes you weak!" he said.

"Why are you doing this to her?" Batman asked.

"She knows better," Mikael replied. "It was the way I trained her."

"Wait, you trained her?" Batman asked in surprise.

"Since she was very young," Mikael said. "I found her at orphanage when I was walking around looking for prospective students. I locked her in an iron jungle, my perfect playground. The only way she could escape was to kill me. Routine torture made this truth undeniable. Her escape attempts were her training sessions, for she had to learn from her mistakes if she had any chance for freedom. The emotions were easy to breed out. When the isolation had done enough, I introduced other male prospects of mine, gave her love interests, and then killed them before her very eyes. After ten years, she was ready."

"You're the sickest man I've ever met," Batman said, barely containing himself. "What possible reason did you have for doing that?"

"Assassinations bored me," Mikael said. "That, and I knew my predicament. The Society of Assassins had me in their clutches, and there was no way they would ever let me leave their organization, even when I tired of it. So, I volunteered to train new assassins for the Society, indebting them to me and also honing my skills. Their training was my training as well. When I finally retired, they respectfully left me to my solitude, except…I still wasn't free. I knew one day they would come back for me, and I prepared myself for that day."

There was something hidden in his words. "What have you done with the Society?" Batman asked.

"They're dead," Mikael said. "If a room is impossible to enter, it provides the best protection, but it also provides the best trap. They were too trusting of me, but what choice did they have, facing the threat of my best student. I should thank you, Blueskin."

Curare said nothing, keeping her muscles relaxed and loose. Her eyes burned with a fire her body did not convey.

"You have learned well," Mikael said. "Conserve your energy all you want, Blueskin. If you couldn't defeat Batman, you have no hope to dispose of me. Your death will be slow and painful." He pointed his wrist at Curare and twitched his finger, sending a dart into Curare's neck.

"You, Batman, may leave," Mikael said, as Curare slumped behind him. "I have no quarrel against you, and I respect the fact that you defeated my best student, so you must have some merit."

Batman blinked. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"I am, however, curious as to how you were able to defeat her," Mikael continued. Then he pointed his wrist at Batman and flicked his finger. Batman felt a prick on his neck and the world descended into darkness.

* * *

Batman woke with his head lying against the cold cement floor. He moved his arms and was glad to find that he wasn't trapped anymore. Also, his suit was operational again. However, Mikael's words worried him. The old man didn't seem like the person to simply release him.

Batman placed his palms against the floor and pushed himself up. He looked to his right side and saw a horrible sight. Mikael lay dead on the ground, a batarang in his neck, blood dripping out beneath it. Curare stood before the dead body, her sword gripped firmly in her hand. Batman saw the look in her eyes and knew he was in trouble.

Silently, she sprinted towards him, sword held high. The two commenced a strange, deadly dance. Batman leapt and dodged as the metal blade swung close to his body. There was no sound but the tapping of their feet against the floor and the cutting of the air as they threw weapons at each other. She jumped over his bolas. His batarangs never touched her. Even the smoke bomb didn't faze her. She passed like a wraith through the smog, her sword lashing out to taste his blood.

The whole scene felt unreal. The dead body, the cold determination in Curare's eyes, the ache in his muscles all seemed to belong somewhere else. If Curare would just leave him alone, he could try to figure out what was going on.

He tossed another random batarang, noticing with concern that he was backing into a wall. This concern was driven from his mind when, instead of dodging the batarang, Curare just let it sink into her arm. His distraction allowed her to lash out and slash his left forearm. As he gripped it in pain, Curare flipped her sword around and shoved the blunt edge under his chin and against the wall, suspending Batman by the neck with her sword. As he struggled to breathe and kicked at her, she grabbed a dagger from her belt and threw it into Batman's right leg, causing fresh waves of agony.

Curare pulled back her sword and let Batman slide to the floor. He noted with despair that Curare's dagger was sticking through his lower leg. Blood was soaking into his suit. He knew he was beat. She placed her sword point against Batman's neck.

"You won," Batman croaked. "Happy now?"

The look in her eyes suggested this was not the case. She brought back her sword and prepared to slice off his head. "Why?" Batman asked.

The question made her pause. She stood there, thoughts seething in her mind as she wrestled with her desires. Then she turned and started carving words into the cement floor. Batman was surprised she was honoring his request. Maybe there was a part inside her that wanted to still be able to speak and convey something. She probably also knew that, with an injured leg, Batman wasn't a threat anymore.

She finished and stood to the side, allowing Batman a clear view of her message. "You stole my vengeance from me," she had written.

Thoughts ran frantically through Batman's mind. _Her vengeance? Did she mean revenge against Mikael? Then…she believes that I killed Mikael. The words Mikael had said, Curare's almost predictable response, it fits too well together. Something is wrong._

He fired a batarang, hoping that it would hit its target. Curare, startled by the sudden movement, raised her sword and prepared a death blow.

"Mikael's alive," Batman said, smiling.

Curare stopped, and then cautiously turned to follow Batman's pointing finger. His batarang had struck the body and dislodged the arm, revealing empty space beneath its exterior. Batman's smile grew as he noticed the realization on Curare's face. Mikael had set up their fight, using a fake dead body as the catalyst.

His smile faded as Curare sprinted away to find the real Mikael. He had to stop her before she killed him. He pulled a roll of medical tape from his belt and stared resolutely at Curare's dagger. Then, with determination, he curled his hand around the dagger, yanked it from his leg, and wrapped tape around the wound. It wasn't a perfect job, but it would do for now. He patched up his arm and left to find Curare.

The clashing of metal led Batman as he moved as quickly as he could through the cold hallways, favoring his right leg. At last, he looked through a doorway and saw Curare and Mikael locked in battle on the floor of the large room where they had been captured earlier. The fighting was fierce and quick, every movement calculated and precise. The old man was very good for his age, apparently wielding a sword as equally sharp as Curare's since it was still in one piece and firing occasional darts at her. Their equality in skill was contrasted by their difference in strategies. Curare was doing all the attacking, while Mikael worked only to defend himself, but even her movements had a sense of restraint and thoughtfulness to them. She was concentrating everything she could on winning this battle.

As Batman watched, he realized that there was very little he could do. If he tried to interfere, restrain one of them, then that person would die. Trying to talk them out of it would have the same result, though he didn't think they'd listen anyway. He could try to capture both of them at the same time, but it was very risky. Still, he saw no other options. The battle would lead to a victor eventually, and he had to stop that from happening.

He was pushed to action sooner than he wanted. Curare's back was to Batman, so she hadn't noticed him enter the room, but Mikael saw him and for a second it drew his attention away from Curare. She used this opportunity to deliver her death blow.

Without thinking, Batman fired a batrope from his arm and it wrapped around Curare's waist, stopping her. Then Batman pulled strongly as Mikael almost used this opportunity to kill Curare.

She skidded to the ground at Batman's feet and glared up at him. "You can't do this," Batman said. She answered by swiping at him a couple times. He was able to dodge by hopping on one foot. "It won't make you happy," he pleaded.

Curare glanced over Batman's shoulder and threw a dagger at him. He fell to the side, just as Mikael's sword sliced through the air he had previously occupied. _Curare saved me,_ Batman thought as he fell to the floor.

The dagger Curare had thrown slashed open Mikael's hand. He dropped his sword and clutched it in pain. Curare leapt at him, but Batman kicked up his foot and caught her right in the stomach, throwing her back and making her drop her sword into Batman's lap. Curare sat up and glared at him, massaging her stomach.

"That's enough," Batman said, standing up with Curare's sword in his hand.

"Agreed," Mikael said, his hand failing to stop the flow of blood. "I'm no longer in fighting condition."

"No, I want this whole thing to stop," Batman said. "You two have no reason to fight anymore. What happened is in the past now. Put it behind you!"

"Talk to Blueskin," Mikael said. "All I want is to be left alone."

"And you'll have plenty of time alone in jail," Batman said.

"Would you send an old man like me to rot away in a place like that?" Mikael asked, trying to rouse sympathy.

"For your atrocities, the only other option is to leave you with her," Batman said, pointing his thumb at Curare. He did a double-take; Curare wasn't there.

Mikael turned and ran. Batman made to follow him, but he felt a presence behind him. In a split second decision, he tossed Curare's sword far away from him, whipped out his batcuffs, and snapped them onto Curare's wrist. Then he snapped the other cuff around his own.

Curare's eyes were wide open with shock and surprise. "It's for your own good," Batman said. She responded by chopping his neck. _How many times am I going to be knocked out in one day?_ Batman wondered as he fell to the floor.

* * *

Batman awoke and found himself sitting against a wall. He groaned and rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes. "You deserved it," a rough, mechanical voice said. Batman turned to see Curare leaning against the wall next to him.

"Was that…?" Batman asked, pointing to her veil.

"I made some rudimentary fixes," Curare said in her monotone voice.

Suddenly, Batman remembered Mikael running away. "What have you done to Mikael?" he asked, fearing the worst.

Curare huffed with disgust. "Thanks to you, he escaped," she said.

Batman breathed a sigh of relief, but he noticed the fury still raging in Curare's eyes. What could he say to her? How could he save her? Now that he knew her past, he felt sympathy for her. She didn't deserve this life.

He would try anyway. "You don't need to pursue him," he said. "You're free now; there's no reason to kill him."

Curare shook her head. "My soul is still trapped in that hellhole," she said.

"I know a bit what it feels like," Batman said, remembering Mr. Fixx and his father. "My father was murdered. I exacted my revenge, but many times I think back and wonder about it. Revenge doesn't make the pain go away."

"At least you knew your father," Curare said bitterly. "I was born like this." She indicated her skin color and veil. "I later learned that my parents were workers at a nuclear power plant that only followed its safety codes on paper. When I came out like this, my parents dumped me at that orphanage."

Batman reached out a hand toward her, but there was nothing he could do. "I'm so sorry," he finally said.

Curare sighed and walked away. She stopped with her back to him. "I don't understand you," she said. "You're so foolish, so naive, but I believe you meant me no harm. That I just don't understand."

She waved a hand over her shoulder. "Goodbye, Batman. Perhaps we'll meet again."

Batman grunted and slowly stood up. When he raised his head, Curare was already gone. He could go after her, but his leg was starting to bother him. He needed medical attention. Unfortunately, if he didn't follow her now, there was very little chance he would be able to find her again before she caught up with Mikael.

As Batman thought of this, his mother's face drifted into his mind. He straightened in surprise, but then he started thinking of Dana, and Max, and even Matt. How many days had he been gone? There were people back home waiting for him, people he cared about. He had never appreciated them more.

He started slowly walking out of the building. Though it was sad, it was Curare's choice. There was nothing he could do now. Hopefully she would find some peace before she died.

Batman hobbled out into the moonlight. It was time to find a plane to hop a ride on.

* * *

Curare sat with her back against the wall of the rickety old plane. She was finally able to fully consider the circumstances. Amazingly, her primary goal had been accomplished; the Society of Assassins would no longer trouble. Even Mikael seemed like he would leave her alone, but no, it wasn't enough. Mikael had to die. He had to.

But why? Batman's words had shaken her too much. For many years, her vengeance had been the only thing keeping her alive. Without that, what else would she have? Was there something else?

She picked up a rock and flung it angrily across the plane. It clattered against the metal wall and floor. _Damn it, Batman! Why did you have to be so nice? Why did you have to be…like Miss Roger so much._ She ducked her head into crossed arms. _I feel alone now._

Involuntarily, a tear ran down her cheek. It felt good to cry.

* * *

"McGinnis, where the devil have you been?" Wayne roared.

"Nice to see you, too," Terry said. He pulled off the mask, tossed it onto the medical table and flopped himself down beside the mask.

Wayne walked up to the table and roughly removed Terry's bandages. Terry grimaced in pain. "All right, I learned your lesson," he said. "No more escapades outside Gotham."

"At least you came back in one piece," Wayne said. Then he looked at Terry's wounds. "More or less. I expect a full report by tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing," Terry said. He was silent for a minute as Wayne worked. Then a thought crossed his mind. "Oh, what excuse did you give for my absence?"

"Excuse?" Wayne said with a sly smile. "I told your mother that I had no idea where you had gone." He turned at looked Terry straight in the eye. "If you want to run off on your own, you're going to come up with your own reasons for doing so."

Terry groaned in dread and lay his head down on the cold metal table. But he couldn't help smiling inside. He was back among family. And Curare…Terry opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Maybe she would find family someday.


End file.
